


Forgiveness

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anti-Android Sentiments (Detroit: Become Human), Communication, Conflict, Established Relationship, Financial Issues, Future Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Major Illness, Married Couple, Mentions of Cancer, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Sad, Secrets, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: When Hank snaps and expresses anti-android sentiments five years into their marriage, Hank and Connor must come clean about how much they're willing to share with each other.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if this is the perfect time or the worst possible time for this fic, but be warned it's kinda depressing and doesn't depict Hank in the best light.
> 
> Specific Warning (minor spoilers): Hank is verbally abusive in an anti-android fashion to an android after the revolution. It's supposed to be upsetting but also, it's Upsetting and may also be a trigger to anyone who's been harassed or attacked in this fashion. Practice self-care as appropriate because I love you and don't want you to be hurt, gentle reader.

Hank stood in front of the bathroom mirror at a small gas station just outside Detroit. He ran thick fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he gazed at his reflection. His wrinkles spoke volumes of a life stretched out behind him, a map of joy marred with recent tragedy. Bloodshot eyes made him look tired. He was ready to give up the fight.

He wasn't drunk, but for the third time in five years, he wanted to be. The craving tugged at his strings, the puppeteer of his addiction trying to move him towards the register. He could take the twelve-pack out back and down half of it before Connor came looking for him.

The thought of further disappointing his husband was the only thing holding him back. The sting of shock in those soft brown eyes might be invisible to most, but Hank had learned to read him like an open book.

He'd seen that look once today, and it was enough to last another thousand years if he never saw it again. Hank put his weight on the sink, leaning on it as if it was the only thing holding him up.

The day had started out like any typical Sunday. Hank had mowed the lawn. The lawnmower broke in a puff of smoke. Hank was unusually calm about it, and kept his cursing to a minimum. Connor, of course, scanned the machine and declared it 'an inoperable, obsolete relic'. A trip to the hardware store had ensued. It should have been simple enough; purchase a lawnmower, go home, finish cutting the grass before the rain scheduled for this afternoon swept in. It was supposed to rain for three days, and he didn't want the grass growing unevenly. Connor hated such imperfections.

The hardware store was busier on a Sunday morning than Hank would have liked. He was stressed, and when he turned the corner into the lawnmower aisle, he watched a huge, bulking construction android haul the last sale lawnmower up onto his shoulder and head towards the register.

Connor's hand was on his arm at once, tugging on his sleeve. "Let it go, Hank. There are other models."

"Fuck, I didn't want to spend a goddamn fortune on this thing." A tension headache throbbed in his temples. "We don't have the money for it."

"We're doing all right," Connor pointed out. "Your retirement from the DPD provides us with a reasonable income."

Hank breathed out the long sigh he'd been holding. He was getting too close to this argument again. The one where Connor, between jobs again, struggled to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, and the bubbling resentment in Hank's gut as he tried to balance the bills on one meager income. It wasn't fair to tell Connor to settle. That work sucked, no matter how one shook it out. He'd even considered taking a job in retirement, but Connor wouldn't hear of it. He didn't want to waste what little time he had left.

"Let's just go," Hank said. "I'm not spendin' this kind of money." He thought about the kind of cash he'd handed to Pedro back in the day knowing he'd never see a dime of it again, and wished he'd been more responsible with money.

He hadn't planned to see retirement, and now his years of depression were coming back to bite him in the ass. Life with Connor was largely happy, but those wasted years after Cole's death were a black mark on his life he couldn't seem to purge entirely from his system. Heavy drinking had left him with liver damage, and the house was falling apart piece by piece. Sometimes, he wondered if Connor merely tolerated him out of pity, or because he had nowhere else to go. He sensed a restlessness in Connor that suggested the android wasn't living up to his full potential and was waiting. Waiting for what? For Hank to die so he could move on with his life?

Hank stalked out of the aisle before he was fully aware of what he was doing. He stalked up to the android and tapped him on the back in the checkout line. Blond hair and blue eyes complemented a broad smile that was borderline creepy. A real Ken doll type if there ever was one.

That wasn't a nice thought. But a lot of his thoughts hadn't been nice ones, recently.

"I, uh, I was wonderin' if maybe you'd let me have that lawnmower." Hank scratched the back of his head. What the fuck was he doing? Connor was stalking up the aisle behind him, ostensibly to stop him, and he wondered if it might be best if he let his husband rescue him from the mess he'd made.

"I was here first," the android said. The smile never faded. Something about it rubbed Hank the wrong way, and a vile thought took shape and escaped his mouth like a demon leaving his body.

" _Humans_ were first, you fuckin' _plastic_." Hank regretted it before he'd even finished the sentence. Connor stopped dead in his tracks, his brown eyes glistening with hurt. The smile on the construction android's face vanished like it had never been there, and Hank wanted to disappear.

The android turned away without saying a word and approached the register. The old lady sitting behind it gave Hank a conspiratorial look. Nausea hit him like a tidal-wave. He clutched his stomach and raced out to the parking lot. Connor caught up with him, his android legs never tiring like Hank's. He caught Hank right outside the store, placing a hand on his shoulder. Hank slumped, knowing there was no escaping the consequences of his own actions.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." Hank leaned against the wall. "I don't have an excuse. I fucked up."

"You need to go back to therapy. I know you've been skipping your appointments." Hank knew he deserved Connor's chiding tone, but it soured him all the same. He'd earned a lecture, but his pride was already in tatters, ruined by his own traitorous lips and wagging tongue.

"I know. The sessions are fuckin' expensive, and we—"

"Can't afford it? That's just an excuse, Hank."

Connor wasn't wrong, and so he didn't fight the accusation. He started to walk back to the car, feeling like every eye was on him. He didn't speak again until he was behind the wheel of the Oldsmobile, pulling out of the lot. He'd never shop here again. This place was cursed by his own deeds.

"I apologized to him for you. You put me in an uncomfortable position." Connor's searching eyes seemed to look at Hank in a different way, and Hank wondered if this was it. He might have broken the spell for good this time. Connor might walk away from their marriage, and Hank couldn't say he blamed him.

"I gotta get gas." Hank pulled into the gas station. He bolted from the car and into the bathroom, where he now stood.

He had to fix this, somehow. He reached out and touched the filthy mirror, wishing there was some way he could turn back time. He'd check his behavior before he acted like the kind of spoiled adult he'd enjoyed cajoling once upon a time. If he was twenty years younger, he'd lock himself in the drunk tank for a night down at the station, just to get a taste of his own medicine.

The longer Connor waited in the car, the more likely it was that he'd go back to find it empty. Was that what he wanted? To spend the rest of his life alone? He'd never shied away from a fight before. He'd yelled at Fowler a billion times when he was pissed over work. Why was he struggling to communicate with Connor?

Connor could walk out and never look back, and it would be Hank who lost everything. He'd spend his last days alone, growing weaker by the day without Connor at his side. He needed Connor, and so he'd done everything he could to keep the peace during tense times.

The bathroom door opened and Connor entered. He reached down and touched the electronic lock. A click sounded as it activated, shutting them both in.

"No," Hank argued. "We can't do this here."

"You've given me no choice." Connor's brown eyes held no warmth, and for a moment Hank was reminded of the fact Connor had been created as a ruthless murder machine. He wished Connor would grab him by the throat and pin him up against the wall. The pain would feel good right about now. To die at Connor's hands would be even better.

The thought struck him. It had been a long time since he'd felt suicidal, but the craving for a peaceful, sudden death was real. Connor could break his neck and he wouldn't feel a thing. It would be a relief.

"What is going on with you, Hank? Are you drinking again?" Connor rounded on him, his LED circling yellow.

"You know I'm not." Connor would have detected it in a heartbeat. Hank closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. Connor was leaving him an opening to be honest, and he needed to do it. Even if that meant yelling.

Sometimes, telling a white lie wasn't the kindest thing to do. Bottling up his resentment and unleashing it on a poor, unsuspecting android had been the wrong choice. He should have been truthful from the outset. Hank of five years ago wouldn't have hesitated, but he'd trained himself to tolerate discomfort without making a fuss. Problem was, he should have made a fuss already. Asked for help when he needed it.

"Connor, we're broke. The house is fallin' apart. I used the electric bill money for Sumo's emergency vet. I can't afford to support you while you figure out what you wanna do with your life." Hank shook his head. "I wanted to do better by you after everythin' CyberLife put you through, but it's been _five years_."

"You're right." Connor gazed down at the floor. "I'm sorry. I haven't contributed much to our finances. Or at all."

"That's not true," Hank muttered. He stepped forward and lifted Connor's chin with his finger. "You've made me a happy man, Connor. I wish that was enough to pay the bills."

Connor's smile was wan. "I'm sorry to have caused trouble."

"You don't gotta apologize to me. Especially after today." Hank sighed. "That outburst was uncalled for." He pulled Connor into his arms. "I hope you don't think that I think such nasty thoughts about you."

"Of course not. You've done nothing but love and cherish me, Hank. Despite your terminal liver cancer, you've endured your impending death with a great deal of dignity until today."

Hank let go of Connor like a hot potato and reached for the sink, clutching it with enough force to make his fingers turn white. "You knew?"

"I knew you didn't want me to know. Unfortunately the radioactive isotopes used in your treatment are visible to my sensors. From there it was a short journey to the truth." Connor closed his eyes. "You're probably wondering why I didn't go to work to support you and help pay for your treatment."

"You probably wanted to spend as much time with me as possible," Hank said. The knot in his stomach wouldn't unravel. Speaking the truth out loud made it real. He was dying. He was so, so tired, and it was tearing away at his sanity. Maybe it was spreading to his brain and he'd die as an angry, raving shell of a man.

"Prototypes aren't built to last. Typically, the shelf life of a CyberLife prototype is around five years, after which the biocomponents begin to decay. My systems have already started to degrade."

"Connor!" Hank surged forward and gathered Connor up in his arms. He'd been so worried about himself he hadn't even imagined such a fate might befall his husband. Connor was an android. Hank hadn't even thought about his death from natural causes. Most consumer androids were decommissioned long before they failed in any meaningful sense, abandoned by their owners who wanted the latest model.

"I know you've been worrying about leaving money behind for me, Hank. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you that you don't need to. Sumo will outlive us both."

"I'm scared," Hank admitted. "I thought I was ready but I'm not. Still, I've had a good run. Not like you. You've barely started. You can't be dying, Connor."

"It's all right," Connor soothed. "I've always known it would be like this. When I found out about your diagnosis, I realized I wouldn't be alone at the end. I'm sad about it, but in a strange way, it's helped me to accept my own inevitable death."

The knot in Hank's gut loosened. There was no longer anything else to be afraid of. They'd been bound together since the moment they'd met and now, they were joined in this terrible outcome as well.

"I'm sorry," Hank whispered. He planted kisses all over Connor's face. "For everything I said and did."

"I'm sorry too. I should have been honest from the outset." Connor captured Hank's lips and kissed him deeply. "I wanted you to be happy, but I realize now that the truth stood between us."

A knock on the door jolted them out of their shared moment. Connor interfaced with the lock and released it. He gripped Hank's hand and led him out of the bathroom, entwining their fingers as he led him past the bewildered man knocking on the bathroom door and out to the car. Hank felt like he was walking through a dream, a nightmare turned into something more tolerable by the end.

They could both meet Cole together, and that thought filled him with hope rather than the inexorable dread he'd woken with this morning. They could accept death as partners, instead of railing against it as individuals.

He hoped the construction android could forgive him, and that he enjoyed a good, long life amongst people who loved and accepted him.


End file.
